Of course he realized his astonishing mistake the instant his fingers came in contact with a human head that had been held low down, in the expectation that the spying owner might remain undiscovered.
Thad knew that they were apt to see more of the one to whom that article belonged. Sometimes these mountaineers think a good deal of the hats they wear; at least Thad knew they clung to them a pretty long time, if the greasy appearance of some he had seen might be taken for an index to the affection they entertained for the felt that sheltered their heads from the summer sun, and the wintry blasts.
"Well, Giraffe, you certainly made a big mistake when you took this hat for the one our chum had lost," remarked Thad, in a loud, clear voice, which he hoped would reach the ears of the one in hiding, and bring him forth; "and you owe some sort of an apology to the owner."
"But how in the wide world c'n I tell whose hat it is, Thad?" expostulated the tall and lanky scout.
"Thet's all right, younker," said a gruff voice, "I'm the critter as owns thet ere hat; Phin Dady's my name. Reckon ye've heard o' me," and with the words a man stalked into the camp.
He was tall and straight, and carried a long repeating rifle. More than that, he had a small face, and piercing eyes like those of a badger. And every scout felt a thrill as he realized that he was face to face with the notorious moonshiner, Phin Dady, whom the whole United States Government had tried for years in vain to capture.
CHAPTER XII.
AN HONORED GUEST.
The boys looked at the moonshiner, who returned their stares with interest. He seemed utterly indifferent as to whether they chose to receive him either as a friend or a foe. From this Thad was almost certain that there must be other fierce mountaineers close by, ready to back up their chief, should he provoke a quarrel with the strange boys in uniform.